Race Day in Paradise

Fashions Arriving at Vila Race Day 2000

Melbourne has its Melbourne Cup.  Auckland has its Auckland Cup.  Louisville has its Kentucky Derby and not to be out done, Port Vila has its Kiwanis Fosters Cup.  Once a year for the past 13 years, a paddock surrounded by road, sea and jungle becomes the centre of Vanuatu’s racing scene.  Never mind that Vanuatu’s “racing scene” is a one-day wonder, thousands, including several international horsy people, turnout in force to watch the horses race and the people parade.  This year we were lucky enough to even have a full-blooded thoroughbred running in the race.

This event is the talk of the town for months before and after the race.  And, the week leading up to the race is full of events, including a swanky Race Ball and a Calcutta Night.  All proceeds from all events go to support various community projects. 

It was the morning after and Rob and I and some friends were sitting around a table in the fabulous Tamanu Beach Club dining pavilion.  We watched as one deep blue wave after another rose up out of the sea then flashed into a bright aqua blue just before erupting into white as it hit the dark table reef.  As the resulting foamy white and black mass of water surged over the reef toward the sandy white beach in front of us we reminisced about the event of the day before.

A Tale of Vanuatu Celebration

Turn of the Century Vanuatu Independence Day

The first volley was fired.  I flinched a bit and then the shots rang out again for a second and then a third volley.  I was still standing.  I checked for holes and then for blood.  No, none, thank god they remembered to load the blanks again this year.  We had survived our second Vanuatu Independence Day flag raising ceremony.

Surprising Santo

Vanuatu Flagged Ship in Luganville

My outer island experience is limited so when Rob arranged for me to head up to Santo with him on one of his business trips, I didn’t say “No”.

It worried me a bit that Santo is supposedly the place where the ancestors of the huge centipedes you find in Vila emigrated from on logs many years ago, but I decided it was worth the risk. These centipedes are the only land creature other than people and dogs that can really hurt you, but fortunately before Santo, and I am touching wood when I say this, I have only ever seen one of these long-ugly-leggy-disgusting creatures alive.  And, then it was only briefly, just before a waiter came and stamped its life out.  So, heading off to the centipede homeland was a concern, but I need to get over these things.  Right?

To get there in time for the meeting, we had to get up at the crack of dawn.  No surprise there,  I mean, whenever we go anywhere from Vila it is on an early flight.  I’m not sure why, but maybe it has to do with the fact that in paradise everyone rises with the sun.

Pekoa International Airport in 2001

We landed safely at Pekoa International Airport after a short 50 minute flight in the Dash 8.  The terminal is forties style and was built by the Americas during World War II.  It was one of three airstrips built on the island of Espiritu Santo as a staging ground to stop the Japanese advance into the southern Pacific.  At one point there were over a hundred thousand US, New Zealand and other allied troops stationed on Santo and the mark they left is still evident throughout the island.

Our rental car was nowhere to be seen, so we piled in the rental of a friend who arrived with us and headed into Santo.  Now, just so we don’t lose anyone, the island is called Espiritu Santo or Santo for short.  It is the largest of the Vanuatu Island group.  The main town on the island is officially called Luganville, but is referred to as Santo by most people I know.  And, just to add to the confusion some people, particularly the francophones, call the town Canal, which refers to the deep channel between the main island and some of the offshore islands.  It was that channel that attracted the American fleet to Vanuatu in the first place.  My personal preference is to use Santo for all.

Anyway, as we were driving down the main road to town – a very good road I might add, much better than Vila’s main road – Rob noticed a car with rental car plates heading to the airport on the opposite side of the road.  “There goes our rental,” he said.

Hotel Santo in Luganville, Vanuatu (2001)

A few minutes later we were checked in at the Hotel Santo.  Just as the key was being handed over our rental car caught up with us.  Stuff like this used to surprise me, but not anymore.  Santo is a small town, smaller than Vila.  The woman who manages the Hotel also handles rental cars and when she got to Pekoa International and it was less then a busy hive of activity at just after 8 on a Friday morning; she knew where we’d be.

As we headed up to the room, past the World War II memorabilia on the walls, we ran into some other friends, Michael and Elizabeth.  Michael was in town for the same meeting.  So, Elizabeth and I decided to do some site seeing while the partners were working. 

It was Elizabeth’s first time in Santo too, but they had arrived a few days earlier.  Since I had the car and she had the local knowledge we were set.  First we walked down the road to the market.  It was a Friday, but the market was almost dead.

With little to see there, we cut across Unity Park to the Women’s Handicraft Centre.  The centre was set up as a means of giving women some income and raising money for women’s development projects.  It is not huge, but there are some fabulous things from Santo and neighbouring islands to buy.  I bought two Pentecost mats and Elizabeth tried to clean them out of baskets.

After a cold fresh lime juice and some discussion with recently arrived British VSO volunteers at the Spot Café, we hopped in the car and headed for Million Dollar Point.  Million Dollar Point is so named due to a less than environmentally sound decision made my US forces as they departed Vanuatu. 

Million Dollar Point in Santo, Vanuatu

The Americans found themselves with millions of dollars worth of surplus supplies and equipment at the end of the war that needed to be disposed of before they left.  They did not want to take it all back to the States so they offered it to the British and French authorities who together controlled Vanuatu (then the New Hebrides). The surplus goods were going for almost nothing, but the colonial authorities dragged out negotiations hoping that the Americans would just leave it all behind for free. 

The Americans weren’t about to be taken in that way, so one of their last acts was to dump the lot into the sea.  Trucks, Jeeps, construction equipment, spare parts, building supplies, food and vast quantities of Coca-Cola were tossed into the sea at what then became Million Dollar Point.

So, we were off to investigate.  Elizabeth had been there two days before on a tour, but they got there at high tide and there was nothing to see.  Since she had been there before, we were confident it would be fairly easy to find.  Boy, were we wrong.

Rule number one when driving on Santo, get a guidebook with mileage information and use it.  There are not many signs to tell you where things are.  We figured we would drive out of town and then just turn right at Million Dollar Point.  With no signs to tell us which right was right, though, it wasn’t long until we were lost.  All the intersections looked alike - dirt road surrounded on both sides by jungle.  So Elizabeth’s previous experience was of absolutely no use.

We drove for a while then just started trying all right turns.  The first was a sandpit, the second took us to a spot where they were clearing the jungle, the third got us to the beach, but it wasn’t Million Dollar Point.  When we got to the canning factory several kilometres North of where we were suppose to be, we knew we had missed the turn.  We turned around and started trying left turns into all the roads we had not tried before.  Well, almost all were roads we hadn’t tried before.  We kind of ended up back in the sandpit a second time.

We were looking for a little yellow building on the beach.  When we found that Elizabeth said we would be at Million Dollar Point.  After several wrong turns we tried a road that I wasn’t sure we’d get our little Toyota Starlet down.  It had deep ruts and broken glass all along it.  We made it down without bottoming out and then there it was – the little yellow building.  Finally, an hour after we started our 10 minute journey, we had found it and lucky for us it was still low tide.

US Army Truck Remains at Million Dollar Point

The building sits on the beach side of the remains of a wharf.  On one side you could see a golden sand beach with boats and finshing nets.  The other side, however, looked like it had just been bombed.  At first, you think it might just be exposed table reef, which is always a bit bleak, with some rusting metal on it.  On closer inspection, though, you see shards of glass and pieces of metal and china welded together by some kind of black stone.  Then you see where some of the glass has been melted and you realise that what they could not get into the sea they must have put on the beach, smashed it all up then covered with tyres (my guess, but something like that) and burned it.

That huge bonfire happened over 50 years ago and the evidence of it is all still there today.  The beach is ugly and you’d get some nasty cuts if you tried to sunbathe on it, but it draws the visitors.  Diving and snorkelling at Million Dollar Point is said to be fantastic.  From the beach, you get a pretty good idea of what lies below.  Just past the low tide mark you can see some beautiful blue and yellow corals and colourful little fish swimming about.  It is quite a contrast from what you see when you turn around.

Despite the environmental catastrophes, World War II did a great deal for making Santo a South Pacific dive Mecca.  Million Dollar Point is just one of the attraction.  There are also several shipwrecks to explore, the best being the 20,000 tonne luxury liner, the SS President Coolidge.  The Coolidge had been converted into a troop ship in 1942 just after the US entered the war.  It had 5,000 men on board when it backed into an American mine in the channel and sank.  I guess a sign may have helped there too?

Crane Bucket at Million Dollar Point 

Fortunately, though, only two lives were lost.  The wreck of Coolidge is there to be explored and it is basically still in one piece too.  Divers are lead into officers quarters and ballroom, past guns and into cargo holds filled with Jeeps and other equipment.

Of course, my shark phobia prevents me from taking the plunge even in the calm waters of Million Dollar Point.  So, Elizabeth and I stuck to the shore.  We conducted an archaeological investigation of the site and formed the hypothesis that the greenish shards of glass sticking out everywhere were from Coke bottles (the words Coca-Cola on pieces of the bottles were our first clue) and the brown ones must have been beer bottles.  The labels from the brown ones are long gone, so that’s a guess.  The china they used was white with blue around the rims and for some reason they were unable to get two buckets from a crane into deep water.

Million Dollar Point Rubble

As we were conducting our investigation, some kids from the local village came to undertake an anthropological investigation of us.  As ususal, they showed up the wussy expats.  We had been walking very carefully on the slippery surface to avoid falling and shredding various body parts on the very sharp shards of glass that protruded from every surface.  These kid, however, were walking around over the same sharp glass barefoot as if they were walking on pure sand. 

After Million Dollar Point we headed back to town for lunch.  We parked back at the hotel and had a very nice lunch at the Natangora Café.  That place is easy to find, since there is a sign on the wall.  Although, there is actually a bigger sign above it 
which said, “Santo Bakery”, which I’m sure would confuse some people.  Rob had said he’d be back around two so that was about when we headed back to the hotel.  As we turned into the entrance, I saw Rob sipping a can of juice and sitting on the life-sized carved wooden pig guarding the hotel's front door.  He’d been waiting there for an hour or so, oops! 

Natangro Cafe Luganville, Vanuatu in 2001

Elizabeth and Michael had plans to go look at orchids in the afternoon.  Rob and I headed North to meet some friends at the Matevulu Blue Hole.  Forewarned, this time, we opened up the guide book and started counting kilometers.  According to our Lonely Planet Guide, the blue hole was 20.5 kms from the Post Office.  At about that point, we came to a road on the left.  We stopped.  There were no signs, there was one of those grate things in the road to keep cattle in and there were cattle standing on the other side watching us.  One of them was a very big very mean looking bull.  That couldn’t be it, so, we drove on.

Just after that, though, we came to the turn off for Oyster Island Resort.  How did we know?  Well, it seems that at least one tourist establishment on Santo has some marketing nous.  There was a sign.  Now, Lonely Planet says that Oyster Island is 20.9 kms from the Post Office, so the road guarded by that bull must have been the one we were looking for.

We turned around and the cattle parted as we entered the gate.  Well, most of them did.  We had to drive around the bull, but fortunately he didn’t trample the little tin can we were in.  We were now driving up the runway of the US airstrip, Fighter One.  It’s been decades since it had seen a plane though, so it looked more like an extremely level field than an airbase.  Weeds and small bushes had colonised the runway, but there were still patches of tarmac scattered about.  There is suppose to be a plane wreck nearby, but we couldn’t find it.  To find the blue hole, the book said drive to the end of the runway and turn left.  Of course, not being one to follow directions, Rob took the third left, which was not quite the last left.  I thought, “Here we go, lost in the jungle.” 

Fortunately, this road brought us to the same honesty box that the other road would have.  The honesty box was a small wooden box that was locked with a very small padlock.  People can be very trusting.  The sign requested 500 vatu per entry.  The box and sign were placed in the middle of an intersection.  The question now was “Where’s the hole?”  

Someone had had the forethought to put a sign up to ask for the money, but they neglected the fact that it might be helpful to know where the blue hole was too.  Just a little arrow pointing the way would have been a nice addition, but this is Vanuatu.  And, the logic goes everyone who lives in Santo knows the way, so why don’t you?

We looked around, but there was no sign of the people we were to meet.  We listened for the sound of people frolicking in the cool blue waters of the hole.  There was only the sound of insects and birds.  Obviously, our friends hadn’t brought a guidebook with mileage.

Matevulu Blue Hole 

It was raining now and we had three choices – left, right, or gaily forward.  Since we could easily have taken the car left or right, we decided the odds were it was forward.  The deep ruts in the road made the car not an option. So we left the car and hoofed it down the hill, up the next hill and along the road.  We had made the right choice and it wasn’t long until we came to the blue hole.  It was a beautiful little spot.  At least it would have been if it wasn’t raining.  We looked around didn’t see any of the huge fish we were told come up and try to kiss your face – or was that eat your face?  It wasn’t really the weather for a swim, so we went back to Santo.

That night we had a lovely dinner at the Bouganville Resort just outside of town and headed back to the hotel for some much needed rest.  We got back to the room.  I plopped myself onto the bed and the next thing I knew I was flying across the room.  I discovered that at the Hotel Santo, the floors are tiled and the beds are on very loose wheels.  I am sure it makes chasing centipedes and cleaning very easy, but when you sit on the bed, or worse plop into it like I did, it's not suppose to take flight.

Anyway, once we corralled the bed we had a good night’s sleep and the next morning after breakfast, we were back on the road.  The drive North is fascinating.  There are reminders of the war presence every where.  At Surunda, the road splits forming a boulevard with a divider studded with palm trees.  It is something like you would find in Los Angeles, but in this case instead of buildings lining the boulevard there are only palm tree plantations and cattle.  Further along there is a long concrete ruin, complete with furnaces, that was once a hospital.  The ruins of Bloody Mary’s brothel are supposed to be nearby as well, but we never found the turn-off. Surprise. Surprise.

We drove on looking for the famous Champagne Beach.  Fortunately, Rob had been there once before, because again there were no signs and we could easily have missed the turn.  Still it wasn’t an easy find.  Just past the Lonnoc Bungalows the road ends at a gate.  Rob was pretty sure that the bungalows were not on Champagne Beach, but there were no other roads.  So, we stopped for a Coke at the bungalows. 

We discovered that to get to the beach, we had to open the gate at the end of the road and drive through.  Another idea for a sign, perhaps?  We finished our Cokes and followed the instructions.  Half way in there is a sign.  It is from Chief Mr Obed asking that the proper fee be deposited in the box.  Again, a sign for the money, but no directions anywhere to be seen.  This time there was only one road though so we carried on down it. 

It turned out to be well worth the trip, once we got there.  Champagne Beach is a huge beach with beautiful golden sand, blue water and lush jungle.  What’s more, we had the whole beach to ourselves.  We were lucky though, since you have to pick your day if you wanted the privacy we enjoyed.

The 20 or 30 deserted fares on the beach were testimony to the fact that when the cruise ships come in the 1,500 people who descend on the beach make the place a little less secluded.  The remains of paper cups and the field of beer and soda cans that are hidden just behind the beach are the unfortunate evidence of visiting cruise ship passengers.

After a great day at the beach, we went back to the hotel to await our transfer to the Aore Resort where we were going to spend the second night.  We were supposed to be picked up at 5 pm, but were warned of a delay and didn’t actually set off until about 6.  It worked out fine though, because it meant that we were on the water heading to Aore Island as the sun was setting.  If it wasn’t for the sound of the ferry’s outboard, you might even have said it was romantic.

Rhino Beetle at Aore Resort

Aore Resort is by far the best resort we have come across in our time in Vanuatu.  It is in a beautiful setting, the bungalows are very comfortable, the food is wonderful and in Vanuatu terms, not over priced, and the service was spot on.  Doug and Clova are fantastic hosts and Samuel who was barman, waiter and concierge is an asset to the resort.  Oh, and the power stays on past 9 pm. 

Unfortunately, we only spent the one night.  So we didn’t get to taken in all the sights and activities available on Aore, but we got to do some sea kayaking which was great.  There is quite a bit to see and from a surface vantage point the coral and fish are spectacular.  It is easy to see why Santo draws so many divers.  And, we land lubbers really enjoyed our short visit too.

Oh, and as for those disgusting centipedes, my tally still stands at one.  Thank god!  Yes, I’m touching wood.  I did find a nice rhino beetle though.


[Note:  This tale was originally told in 2001]

Copyright 2001

Paula Does Vila: A Bad Weather Tale

Rainbow over Port Vila Before Paula

It had been hot and steamy for weeks.  Everyone was saying that a cyclone was near.  There was nothing on the Fiji Met Services website that indicated that.  Still I heard over and over again that one was surely coming.  In fact, I had been hearing such predictions since December and frankly, I was starting to think that I should get in on the action. The average for Vanuatu is 2 and a half cyclones a year.  We had had only one very small one last year, none this year.  So, the odds were in favour of the doomsayers being right.    As usual, though, I analysed just a bit too long and missed my opportunity to be Vanuatu’s very own Nostradamus. 

In the early hours of Tuesday 27 February 2001, Cyclone Paula was born in the waters between the Solomon Islands and Vanuatu.  It had appeared as a tropical depression a day or so before, but having watched several of these form over the past few weeks only to see them fizzle or head back toward Australia, I had given up on monitoring them.  Of course, that should have been my first clue that this one would be different.

You see, I’ve never been in a cyclone before and while it is probably a bit bizarre, I didn’t want to leave Vanuatu without experiencing at least one.  Ok, bizarre is probably not the right word.  The word most long timers here were using for me was crazy, but then they had been through a few before and probably forgotten the excitement of their first.

I don’t know what it is, maybe it is the power of Mother Nature, but whatever it is, cyclones, hurricanes, earthquakes and the like interest me.  Every time the rumble of an earthquake starts up – here you always here the rumble through the coral beneath first before the movement starts – the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.  I watch for the first movement and wonder if this is it – the big one!  So, far I have been disappointed on the earthquake front and that is probably very lucky considering we live in a house with a metal roof and concrete block walls.  It probably would not be a good look to have all that tumbling down around me or on top of me for that matter.

Still I figured a small cyclone would not be too bad.  I had had two near cyclone experiences – one fizzer last year and one in 1972.  The ’72 experience was truly a disaster.  That year, the remnants of Hurricane Agnes parked itself over New York State sending so much water down the Susquehanna River that it had its worst flooding in over 100 years.  I remember that year vividly.  I was going around openly hoping it would flood.  Dumb?  Yes, we only lived three blocks from the dikes that were suppose to keep the river in check, but hey, I was only 10. 

As it turned out, the dikes were not high enough that year and sure enough our house got flooded.  Only about a foot of the roof of our split level house managed to stay out of the water, and everything we moved from the lower level of the house to the upper got soaked and covered in layers of mud.

You would have thought I had learned my lesson, but not this puppy.  When I heard Paula had formed and was suppose to move due south for a while before moving east I was a little disappointed since that meant it was probably going to miss us.  Being a little older now, I was smart enough not to go around saying that, though.

Preparing for Cyclone Paula

Just in case, we started low level preparations.  You never know what a cyclone will do.  They can change direction at the drop of a hat.  We got the gardener, Charlie, to clean out the gutters and move the plants on the deck into the area that gets closed off with shutters.  I went into town and got some supplies, candles, batteries, cat food and human food too.  Charlie also got out the wooden shutters from under the deck and put them out near the windows that they were to cover should Paula come our way. 

Our artist friends, Michou and Aloi had invited us to lunch to meet some people visiting from New Zealand.  So, about noon I headed off to their place.  There were some dark clouds off in the distance, but otherwise the sun was shinning and the temperature was once again on the way up.

On the way over, I listened to the Radio Vanuatu news and they said Paula was currently 200 kms north west of Santo and was heading south.  It was expected to pass over Southern Vanuatu in 48 hours.  I wondered what was considered “Southern Vanuatu.”   I mean, Efate is kind of in the middle, but maybe it could be considered “Southern”. 

We had a lovely lunch of Tahiti fish salad, cooked bananas, taro and yams.  It rained briefly, but by the time we left the sun was out again.

I continued checking the 6 hourly cyclone warning issued by the Fiji Met Service throughout the day.  When we went to bed, Paula was still headed south and expected to pass over Aneityum in 48 hours.  Aneityum is a few hundred kilometres south of Efate.  So, I now knew what they meant by “Southern Vanuatu.”

The alarm went off at 5:30 the next morning.  I listened for the sound of rain on the roof, but there was none.  It was darker than normal.  There was no burst of sun through the supposed blackout curtains.  So, I figured it was cloudy, but with no rain, my walking partner, Shari, would be outside waiting for me in a few minutes.  So, I got up, got dressed and headed out the door.  I met Shari at the gate and that was when it started to drizzle.

Since we were already up at that ungodly hour, we decided to do the walk anyway.  I went back inside got two umbrellas and we headed off.  I took a few steps, and popped the umbrella up. The little metal gizmo on the top that keeps it all together, popped off and rocketed into the air collapsing my umbrella.  This was an omen – weather protection gear not in working order, beware – but I didn’t see it at the time.  I just got another umbrella and off we went.

The clouds were quite thick and to the north the sky over the mountains was almost black.  The wind had also picked up and you could tell that Paula was getting closer.  After the walk, I turned the computer on and checked out the latest bulletin to see what Paula had been up to over night.

The predictions of southerly movement had been wrong.  Over night Paula had veered east and was now just off the coast of Santo and expected to move south easterly.  Aneityum was saved, but now Efate was potentially directly in its path.  My excitement levels rose – secretly, of course.  I told Rob this and Mr Calm-Cool-and-Collected, brushed it off and said he was sure it would miss us.

By about 9:30, the winds were getting stronger.  The trees and other plants in the garden had started a regular rustling.  The avocados on the tree over the kitchen were banging away on the roof and the now sustained winds were keeping all the fronds on the palm trees down the road blowing in a westerly direction.  It was starting to look like a cyclone should.

I had just been to the market and there had been a lot more people there than there had been yesterday.  Everyone was stocking up now, not just the uninitiated like me.  I was amazed to find, however, that there were one or two people who still had no idea that Paula was on the way.  I told at least two people about it as I picked up more candles and dinner.  I guess they don’t listen to the radio.

When I got back home I got word from Rob that there had just been a flash alert on the news.  Paula had picked up speed and was going to pass over Vanuatu just to the north of Efate in the late afternoon or early evening.

Garage Door Cyclone Shutters

Charlie was in the process of putting up the wooden shutters and I started putting down some of the roll down shutters.  We have three types of shutters the old fashioned wooden ones on some of the smaller windows and the front door, roll down aluminium ones over most of the windows and around the deck and two big garage doors that get pulled down over the big windows in the dinning room/ lounge area.

There was no real rain yet and the winds were not that strong, so we took advantage of the weather to get most of the shutters up or down as the case might be.  There was no way I wanted to get caught like we did last year when the munchkin cyclone, Iris, passed to the north of Efate.

On the night Iris passed by, we got a phone call at 1 am from the neighbour who called to say Charlie had come to put up their shutters because an alert had been given.   We thought, “Well, how nice of him.”  Rob said, yes and Rob and I got up and went out into the pouring rain to help Charlie put them up.  There were more wooden ones and fewer roll down ones last year and wet, the wooden ones are even heavier.  Rob and I did most of the work, lugging the wooden ones out and slipping them into place where Charlie told us.  He has worked here for years and knew the drill.  We were absolutely soaked by the time we came back in, but glad to know there would be no trees smashing through the windows.

The next morning when Rob went into the office, he discovered Charlie actually gets paid to come out and do the shutters when the alert is given.  So, basically we’d been had.  I considered suggesting that maybe Rob and I should get the cheque, but decided that might look a bit churlish. 

So, suffice it to say, that I had no guilt watching Charlie put the wooden shutters up all by himself, while I took the easy job of winding down the other ones.

The schools closed at lunch, so I took Marie, the housekeeper, over to the school to pick up her niece, Anais.  Anais is 6 so as far as her memory goes this was going to be her first cyclone too.  She was very talkative on the way home.  This is not normal.  Usually, you can’t even get a “Good morning” out of her.  Her biggest concern was that all the flowers were coming off the trees and bushes and she didn’t want any thunder.  She doesn’t like thunder.

By the time we got back, the house was basically closed up.  I had heard it gets quite hot inside during a cyclone, so I figured I would alleviate that little problem by turning the air-conditioning on in a few strategic rooms – the bedroom and living room.  At least, we would be cool.

Cyclone Paula announces she's on the way

Most businesses were closing down, but Rob called to say he would be staying at the office a little longer – surprise, surprise.   About two o’clock, Charlie had finished up at the neighbours and I took him home.  The wind was really blowing at this point.  Trees were already coming down.  As we came to the bend near Malopoa College, I had to manoeuvre around fallen banana and papaya trees.  The road up to Charlie’s place was a raging river by this time, but we made it up and then, I headed home.

As I rounded the corner at Malapoa College I came upon some teenagers playing in the puddle that had formed in the road.  They were dancing around and splashing water all over.  It was all quite festive, really.

Our Outdoor Fruit Bowl

Rob finally got home about three.  The wind and rain were really picking up by this point.  The banging of the avocados had stopped and when I went out back to save a few orchids, I found out why.  The avocados, the papaya and the neighbour’s grapefruit had turned the side walkway into a huge bowl of fruit salad.  Smashed fruit was everywhere and this was only the beginning of the cyclone.  The radio news had just said it wasn’t due to hit until eight that night!

I was now watching two websites to see where Paula was headed – the Fiji site and the French Meteo site in Noumea.  Fiji said it would pass to the east and Meteo to the west.  The Vanuatu Met Service was saying over the radio that it would pass to the north.  All they really agreed on was that it was going to be close.

We had dinner and watched Part III of the BBC documentary Elizabeth.  The wind was roaring away by this time, but the rain wasn’t pounding yet.  With the way the wind was whipping up, I guessed the rain might have been getting blown sideways and therefore over the roof.  Paula had slowed again and now the centre, where the winds are worst, was not due in Vila until sometime between midnight and 3 am.  Paula was getting stronger with each passing hour as well.  The cyclone warnings kept saying as it neared an island that the interaction with the coral island ‘x’ would cause it to weaken.  The next report following the interaction with said island would say it had had no effect, but the next island might cause it to weaken.  We were about out of islands between us and the storm.  We were in for a long night.  Still with the shutters in place and the air-conditioners running, we were snug as a bug in a rug.

By quarter to nine the wind and rain, yes you could hear the rain now, on the roof was so loud it sounded like a very long freight train was passing over it.  I checked the latest bulletins on the Fiji and Noumea websites.  They finally agreed on a path.  Cyclone Paula (video) was coming right through the middle of Efate, although the Vanuatu Met Service was still projecting it would pass to the North.

I went out to the deck to check the shutters.  When the shutters are down around one section of the deck, it forms a little room that plants, deck furniture and other outdoor things can be put in to protect them from the wind.  The shutters were there for Iris, but since that wasn’t a real cyclone, I decided to check them.  I always thought they were a bit flimsy and when I got out there I learned sadly that I had been right.  The one at the far end of the deck had already blown out of its track at the bottom.  I went and got Rob and we manoeuvred it back into the track.  My excitement was turning into unease.

After we came back inside, I stood there at the door watching the shutters shake with each blast of wind.  The glass doors behind the garage door shutters were also bending with the gusts.  Mr Calm-Cool-and-Collected told me to come away from the window. “There is nothing we can do about it, now,” he said.

I went back to the video, but a few minutes later the power went out.  With no distractions, the roar of the storm got louder just as the room went dark.  Now there was nothing to do, but light some candles and twiddle our thumbs.  I took a torch and went out to the kitchen.

As I passed the doors to the deck, I noticed a little black patch where there should have been cream coloured shutter.  I flashed the light out and not really to my surprise saw that the middle shutter had popped out of the middle of its track.  As the wind whipped around on the other side, the gap widened and closed.  It was not going to be long before the whole thing went and once one went the other three were sure to go.

I told Rob and he went out to investigate.  Next thing I knew, he was standing there trying to push the gap closed and hold it closed.  When the gusts hit he moved back with the shutter so you could see it was a fruitless attempt.  I told him to get his butt inside and he said he was concerned about the house.

Shutters give in to Paula

I thought for a second, because I needed to get the words just right and then I said, “There is nothing we can do about it, now” and added “Now, get your ass in here!”  The storm was not at its peak yet and I had visions of a big gust of wind coming that would throw the shutter and Rob right through the windows behind.

Within 10 minutes, the middle shutter had blown out.  It had pulled completely out of its box and track and was lying on the plants and deck furniture.  The other three shutters were shredded with the pieces still connected flapping away.  We had a great view of the harbour now though.  You could really see what was happening out there.  Rob, however, was very disturbed that the town still had its lights on.  Each time the rain blotted out the lights on the other side of the harbour Rob would say, “Yes, they’ve lost them.”  But then, the rain tapered off and the lights were still there.

Anyway, once the shutters were gone, Rob taped the windows and proceeded to open all the internal doors to equalise the pressure.  This kind of foiled my plan to keep a few rooms cool during the whole thing.  It was dark, exceedingly hot and very noisy.

The concern now was, that this was the beginning of the wind not the height.  The centre wasn’t due until midnight or so.  The last tacking before we lost power had it coming right for us.  It was intensifying with winds up to 180 kms per hour and we had no shutters at on a big chunk of the house.  This wasn’t fun anymore.  If a window broke from the wind or something hitting it, what just happened to the shutters would happen inside.

Rob was getting more concerned about damage to the house.  I, however, took the view that since we don’t own it and Rob’s employers obviously took the cheap option on the shutters – screw the house!  For all I cared, the house could fly off to the wonderful Land of Oz as long as he and I and our things were not in it at the time.

Having had the 1972 flood experience I knew there were only certain things that can’t be replaced.  So, I set about collecting photos, financial documents, and computer disks and put them in a bag.  I also packaged up the computer.  The plan was move it into the truck in the garage, which was separate from the house.

Leave Splatter and Trusted Cyclone Shutter

In the end the move was not necessary.   Despite all the whistles and bells of the Fiji and Noumea met services, the Vanuatu Met Service got it right.  Paula passed to the north and then headed on to the southeast, so we never saw the most intense part of the storm.  By about 1:30 am the wind had clearly shifted which meant the centre had passed.  The wind was whistling down the path on the other side of the house and hitting the front door, which was protected by the good old-fashioned wooden shutters.

Rob headed off to bed and I followed a bit later.  I woke up about 4 am and I am pretty sure it was the silence that woke me.  I lay there until it got light and went out to see what was left.  The wind had died right down and there was not much rain either.  The first thing I noticed when I opened the door was the over powering scent of shredded plant life.  It was like someone had just trimmed all the hedges in Vila at the same time.

The way shutters shouldn't be hung

I crawled out through what was left of the shutters on to the deck and took a look into the harbour.  There was a yacht washed a shore down below us and another sunk across the harbour over at the Rossi.  There were a lot fewer leaves on the trees and all the walls of the house were plastered with small pieces of green.

When you looked down into the bush you could actually see the path of the wind.   Tree branches were snapped off in a certain direction.  The trees that had fallen were lying in a certain direction.  Bushes and trees left standing were leaning in the same direction.  There wasn’t a banana tree left standing and most of the papaya trees had snapped. 

Rob got ready for work and I drove into town with him.  There was a lot of damage to food crops, but not too much to buildings.  A total of six yachts were beached or sunk and one at the market had only the top of its mast above water.  The yacht below us is still there 3 weeks later.  There doesn’t seem to be an easy way to get it over the reef and back to deep water.

The green debris has turned to brown and there are many views around town that weren’t there before and won’t be again once the bush comes back.  We were lucky this time.  I’ve experienced my cyclone and I don’t think I need to do it again.

Malapoa Before Paula

Malapoa After Paula